


Between Two Worlds (A World of Our Own)

by Demerite



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Assassin!Jim, M/M, Vaguely Referenced Sex, injuries, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22971979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: "You need to stop leaving bodies in my kitchen.”Leonard complains."Technically, this one's still alive, which is why I'm here." Jim points out.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	Between Two Worlds (A World of Our Own)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aishahiwatari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/gifts).

> Written for Aisha for the USS McKirk Valentine's Exchange 2020, shared with all of you with her consent!

Leonard wakes up at 3am to the sound of someone breaking into his house. They haven’t set the alarm off yet, so it’s probably just Jim. Grumbling about assassins and their goddamn lack of manners, he stumbles out of bed, and downstairs to greet his impromptu guest. 

"You need to stop leaving bodies in my kitchen.”Leonard complains. 

"Technically this one's still alive, which is why I'm here." Jim points out, not seeming to be affected by the weight of the young man he's mostly carrying. "Idiot got in front of my shot." 

"Jesus Christ Jim, he's only a kid!” 

"I _know." _Jim growls, "That's why I brought him to _you." _

The kid mumbles something in what may or may not be English, but he doesn't fight Jim as the man deposits him in one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

"Fucking christ." He mutters viciously, already reaching for the kit he's got stashed in the cupboard above the sink for Jim-related medical emergencies, and turning back to examine his patient. "It was bad enough when I was just patching up your sorry ass, Jim." Leonard grumbles, fishing antiseptic, suture kit, and clean dressings out of the bag, "Now you're bringing me your mistakes, too?" 

Jim watches him from the other side of the kitchen, eyes dark and guarded from where he's leant back against the counter, arms folded across his chest. 

"Where else was I supposed to take him, Bones?" He asks finally, "You rather I'd let him die?" 

"Hell, no." Leonard growls, focus intent on the wounded kid in front of him. And he really is a kid. Can't be more than twenty, if that, hazy grey-blue eyes and chaotic golden curls, pale skin made even paler by the blood-loss. He doesn't want to even _think _about where Jim had managed to find him. He knows exactly what usually happens to pretty young things like him in the world Jim inhabits. "Just..." He sighs heavily, hands steady as he cleans the wound, "I don't need _two _assholes to worry about. You're enough all on your own." 

Jim snorts out a short, bitter laugh at that. "I don't remember asking you to worry about me.You just decided you were going to." 

"You broke into my surgery, threatened my best nurse and then passed out at my feet." Leonard retorts. It’s an argument they’ve had time and time again. "And you'd be dead at least three times over without my help." 

"Come on Bones, _twice_." Jim argues. 

"Call it what you like, I'm invested in your survival." Leonard drops the bloodied needle into a disposable tray and knots off the neat row of stitches, "Matter of professional pride at this point. Nothing personal." 

"Uh-huh." Jim mutters, pushing away from the counter and crossing to the fridge. He searches through it, ignoring Leonard's muttered objections, and comes up with a couple of beers. Wordlessly, he opens them both one offers Leonard one, holding it out to him without having to look. He stands and watches and drinks, and doesn't say anything else until the bottle is empty. 

"I'm gonna shower." Jim announces. 

"Sure, help yourself." Leonard grouses, "Not like this is my house or anything." 

Jim flits off up the stairs. They both know that the moment he's done with his patient, Leonard will be joining him. 

His patient who is so young, and so pale, and so very thin, pretty in a kind of waifish way; but when Leonard looks closer he can see familiar callouses on his hands, the same ones that Jim carries from his guns, markers of a life that Leonard is slowly learning more and more about. He’s sure that if he looked below the bloodstained t-shirt or the faded jeans, he’d see scars, and maybe even tattoos. 

He doesn’t look. Instead, he slings an arm around the boy’s shoulders, and another under his knees, and lifts him. He’s too light, but Leonard just gets him settled on the couch where he will hopefully get some rest - and goes to find Jim. 

There’s steam issuing from under the bathroom door, and when Leonard steps inside, the room is similarly hazy, the rush of the shower muffling any other sounds. 

Even so, Jim doesn’t flinch when Leonard steps under the water with him, he just steps back to give Leonard enough space under the spray. The water is running clear, but Leonard can see that there’s still blood in Jim’s hair. 

“Turn round.” He says softly, and smothers a small laugh when Jim waggles his eyebrows at him, “I’m gonna wash your hair, you idiot.” 

Jim’s face does something Leonard has learned to read as surprise; surprise that he cares about Jim enough to do something like this, and Leonard has to suppress his want to just _keep _Jim, because he already knows that would never work out. Not when their lives, and the worlds they live them in, are so very different. 

But as he squeezes shampoo into his hand and works the lather through short, blond hair until the water runs clear again, he can pretend, at least for a little while, that this isn’t a random occurrence, that he and Jim share this space on a daily basis, instead of it feeling like a limbo before the real world crashes back in on them. 

Jim arches up into his touch like a cat, and Leonard lets his nails scrape over his scalp, just to hear the low groan that Jim can’t quite keep in, and then Jim is turning to kiss him under the hot water, hands that have previously choked the life out of people gentle on the back of Leonard’s neck, calloused fingers burying themselves in his hair. 

Those same fingers bury themselves in Leonard’s ass later, work him open with the same brutal finesse that Jim displays in every aspect of his life, and Leonard thinks briefly, between the third finger and total incoherency, that there are things he should be doing. 

He should be making sure the door is locked, or that his patient is still alive and hasn’t stolen anything or simply made a run for it; but that the entire world could come crashing down around them and he wouldn’t care, because he has Jim with him, and that’s enough. 


End file.
